District 8 Train Ride
Tuesday, July 7th, 1663 P.A.
Nadina Windlass, 16
District 8 Female Tribute
My right eye throbs with pain, the only constant sensation I've felt for the past twenty-four hours. I should have iced it. Maybe it would've stopped the blacks and the blues and the purples of the bruise from getting so dark. Maybe it would've allowed me to see out of both of my eyes during the Reaping. Maybe it would've gotten me out of my current situation, trapped under the scrutiny of my frowning best friend.
But it also would've seeped away some of the pain. I'm not a masochist — I don't enjoy the pain nor do I go out of my way to get injured. But the pain grounds me. It gives me something to feel when the emotions are too much to bear.
"Why?" Aurora asks with a quivering lip. (I hope she doesn't cry. We both know that I wouldn't be able to comfort her.) "Why are you doing this to yourself?"
That's always the question: Why am I doing this to myself? Because I am somehow responsible for all the shit that's happened to me. I caused my parents to crash their car into a tree. I destroyed my aunt's marriage with my presence. I ruined a foster home for a dozen other orphans. I punched myself in the face.
Aurora wouldn't understand. Her parents pamper her, support her, cherish her, and love her unconditionally. They would sew their eyelids shut for Aurora to have a nearly perfect life. If she even had the slightest of sniffles, her parents would put her on a week-long bedrest until she had no signs of illness. The only hardship she's even endured was losing her older sister, Ro, in the arena. But that was almost a decade ago. Her memories of Ro have faded to nonexistence.
Sometimes, I think I miss Ro more than her family. I visit her gravestone on every anniversary of her death. Her parents and sister came the first few years, but they eventually stopped. Maybe they don't find any solace in the cemetery anymore. Maybe they do something else on that day. I have enough experience with untimely deaths to know that people grieve differently.
But the "what ifs" continue to torment my mind. What if her family doesn't mourn her? What if I am the only one who remembers her? What if I am the only one who wants to remember her?
Ro deserves more than to be forgotten, to be relegated to another tribute fatality in the Games. She was the most authentic person in her family. She comforted me when my parents were killed. She helped me move my belongings to my aunt's house. She assured me that my aunt's divorce wasn't my fault. If she wasn't reaped before I got placed in the foster system, I bet she would've forced her parents to get custody of me.
My life could've been so different if Ro was in it for a bit longer.
"You're shutting me out." A single tear rolls down Aurora's cheeks. More follow within seconds. "Why are you shutting me out? Don't you want to say something? Anything?"
I don't say a word.
Aurora should know that this is hard for me. She might've lost her older sister, but I lost my parents and my role model and all my familial connections. The sadness and the anger never brought them back, never improved my life. I didn't feel better whether I had a chance to say goodbye or if I couldn't remember the last words I said to them. Emotions have become an impediment to me. If I let myself feel anything, I've learned that I only leave myself vulnerable to uselessly strong emotions.
"You realize this is hard for me too," Aurora continues. "The Games… it doesn't just hurt the tributes; it hurts everyone who cares for them."
Sometimes, I wonder if Aurora and I would even be friends if we met later in life. She somehow manages to warp every conversation into revolving around her. It doesn't just matter that I might lose my life in the arena; it will also hurt her. Because sadness over losing a friend is comparable to losing your life in a bloody, ruthless fashion.
"You're really not going to say anything?" Aurora whispers.
My lack of response is enough of an answer.
She sighs and stands up. "Goodbye, Nadina. I really hope you survive. I don't think you realize how important you are to me or my family or any of the other people in your life."
There's not many people in my life, anyway.
She closes the door softly behind her.
Baize Edmonia, the only victor from Eight, is a professedly meticulous and composed woman. Although her sheath dress and rigid posture endorse her refined elegance, her slim figure and sharp cheekbones align more with casual drug use than exceptional health. But I don't blame her. She survived the arena and watched a decade's worth of tributes die under her mentorship. If substances stop the nightmares from afflicting her, I'm not going to judge her for it.
Besides, it doesn't look like substances have consumed her life. (At least, not to the degree they have for some other victors.) She is still a suitable mentor for all the tributes of Eight. Even for my twelve-year-old district partner, Octavian.
"I know there may be a lot of emotions right now, but I want to start discussing your Capitol personas," Baize says, glancing between Octavian and me. We sit together at the dining table in the general lounge car. I haven't sat at such a large table since my parents were alive. "Unless either of you have strong preferences otherwise, I would like to tailor your individual personas in front of each other.
"Once we reach the Capitol, we can start discussing general strategies to help you survive in the arena. Although I have found joint strategy conversations to be beneficial for both tributes, we can move to one-on-one sessions if you'd prefer. We can also start with joint sessions and move to one-on-ones later on, if either of you change your mind.
"Regardless, I want to remind you that you are district partners; you are not enemies — not even in the arena. I want as much transparency and honesty between you two as possible. It might seem weird since only one of you may make it out of the arena, but I have found that a positive relationship between district partners can significantly ease some of the mental taxation of the Games. You don't need to trust one another with your life, but you should at least trust one another to keep your secrets and your strategies from the other tributes." Baize pauses. "Do either of you currently have any objections to discussing your personas right now?"
Octavian shakes his head.
I don't respond, but Baize takes that as enough of an answer.
"Once we reach the Capitol, you will be bombarded with cameras. If you want your Capitol persona to be drastically different from your true self, do not let the cameras surprise you. I've seen tributes with a stoic persona freak out from all the flashes and the lights. If the Capitolites discover that you're lying, they will tear you apart and you will lose a significant amount of your sponsors. The Games may be a show, but the Capitolites want the emotions to be real.
"Neither of you did anything too captivating during the Reaping, so you should have some flexibility with your Capitol personas. But based on previous Games, Octavian"—she looks at my district partner—"you will be stereotyped because you are the youngest tribute. Capitolites will assume that you're naïve and innocent, and a fair amount of sponsors will give you money for sympathy alone."
"But I'm not naïve," Octavian huffs.
"It doesn't matter," Baize says straightforwardly. "Capitolites will assume that you're naïve. If you don't want to play into the stereotype, you can prove them wrong. But by doing so, you risk losing your sympathy sponsors."
He mumbles something under his breath. Based on his sour expression, it wasn't anything pleasant, but neither me nor Baize hear it.
"As for you, Nadina"—she turns toward me—"it'll be hard to hide your black eye from the cameras tomorrow morning. When you meet your stylist, they should have an injectable to clear away the darker parts of the bruising — it'll be barely visible by the chariot ride, but not before then.
"Capitolites will probably expect you to be either a threat in the arena or a former victim of violence. You wouldn't need to figure out which one you want to embrace until the interviews, but you should start thinking about it. Being a threat is more rewarding from a sponsoring perspective, but it's also more dangerous. Other tributes might target you in the arena, and if you do anything disappointing — earn a low training score, refuse to kill anyone in the arena — you will lose sponsors. Being a victim will give you sympathy sponsors, but there's only so much money they'll be willing to give."
I already know that I will embrace the threat persona. I refuse to play into the victim cliché.
"If neither of you have any questions," Baize continues, "then I want to give you some time alone to consider what persona works best for you. I only gave you suggestions based on what I think would work best with Capitolites, but there are many other options. It ultimately comes down to what you think you can pull off convincingly."
I take Baize's words as a dismissal, leaving the table without saying a word.
Octavian Espen, 12
District 8 Male Tribute
I don't understand why people would think that Nadina's a threat.
They probably assume that she was recently in a fight because she came to the Reaping with a black eye. But there's many ways a person can get a black eye. She could've opened a door right in her face or been hit in the eye with a candy bar. Even if she did get into a fight, it doesn't mean she won it. And if she did, she still didn't walk away unscathed.
Eight is not a crime-ridden nor a dangerous district. If you get injured from a fight in Eight, wouldn't that mean you're more likely to die in the arena? You'd be more likely to fight in the Games, more likely to provoke a Career or any other menacing tribute, more likely to focus on killing than on surviving in the arena. Maybe your recklessness generates some entertainment for the Capitolites, but it should reduce your chances of survival.
It should be better to keep a low profile rather than be the center of attention. It should be better to avoid conflict rather than confront it head-on. It should be better to be forgettable rather than memorable in the Games.
And Baize… Baize literally survived the Games by keeping a low profile. Nobody — not even her mentor (allegedly) — realized how deadly she could be until the end of the Games. I don't think she earned a single sponsoring gift, so I don't understand why she's trying to convince me and Nadina to appeal to the Capitolites with fake personas.
If she could win without sponsors, why can't we?
No, actually, I'm overlooking the real question: If she could win without sponsors, why can't I?
But I know why — or, I know what Baize thinks. She thinks that I won't survive because I'm too young and too weak and too innocent and too naïve. Although she claimed that's what Capitolites will think, I know that she shares their assumptions. Everyone, even the district citizens, share their assumptions.
The twelve- or thirteen-year-old tribute is always considered a victim in the Games. If we survive the first twenty-four hours, it's because we avoided the bloodbath. If we survive the first few days, it's because we need much less food and water than the older tributes. If we survive the feast, it's because the other tributes were targeting the bigger threats. If we survive until the finale, it's because everyone — the tributes and the Gamemakers alike — forgot we even existed. If one of us ever survives the Games, it'll be considered a miracle.
I want to be the one to survive.
"Octavian, I'm really sorry." I look at Baize. We haven't moved from our chairs nor spoken a single word since Nadina left the lounge car. "I remember what it was like to be reaped, and I know that you might be feeling a lot of emotions right now. If you want to talk about it, I'll be here for you. But if you're mad at me for making you eligible for these Games"—she included my cousin (her best friend) in her will—"I would understand."
My stomach drops. I hoped that she would apologize for calling me naïve, but apparently, she's only apologetic for making me eligible for the Games. I don't understand. She's known me for my entire life. Shouldn't she know that I'm competent, not some clueless twelve-year-old?
She stands up to leave, but I stop her.
"Why do you think I won't survive?"
She blinks. "I never said that."
"You're thinking it, though." I narrow my eyes, challenging her to say otherwise. "If you thought I could win, you would actually talk about strategy. Instead, you're focused on making me appealing to the sponsors."
"Because sponsors are important."
"You didn't need them!"
"And I barely survived." She sits back down, a dark shadow falling over her eyes. "Do you even know how I survived the arena? You were, what, two years old at the time. I doubt you remember. You probably only know what your teachers told you, right?"
I purse my lips.
"Yeah, I didn't think so," she scoffs. "I may not have earned any sponsors, but I did steal other tributes' sponsoring gifts. Those gifts are priceless in the arena — the food and water are more nourishing, the weapons and tools are more durable. I would not have survived without sponsors, even if they never directly sent me anything."
"Then, why can't I do the same thing?"
"Do you know how to climb a tree for when those packages get stuck in some branches?" She raises her brow. "Do you know how to remain stealthy when you follow the most dangerous tributes around? Do you know how to swiftly and quietly kill another tribute without waking up their allies?"
"Isn't that what training is for?"
"You can only learn so much within two and a half days."
"You did!"
"No, I didn't. I learned how to climb a tree before I was reaped, and I learned how to use weapons in the arena." She pauses to take a breath. "In the end, my strategy or any other victor's strategy is not effective for each tribute. If it were, I would have brought home another victor by now."
She stands up. "The best strategy is tailored for the specific tribute, not recycled from past victories. I would advise you to consider your own strengths and weaknesses. We can discuss strategy from there."
She pauses at the door leading out of the lounge car. "Oh, and thinking that you could copy my strategy is not helping you prove that you're not naïve. If you want to go against the Capitolites' stereotype, you should try harder. Nobody likes a spoiled kid who acts like they know more than they do."
There's a sour taste in my mouth as she leaves.
I clench a ballpoint pen in my right hand. Its tip hovers above a lined sheet of paper, but it has yet to make a mark. The only visible sign that the paper has been touched is the vertical crease down its center.
My whole body seems to be vibrating with anger.
On one hand, I understand Baize's rationale for crafting each strategy based on her tribute's strengths and weaknesses. A good mentor would factor in their tribute's capabilities and limitations, what they already know and what they can learn in training. It would be pointless to devise a plan that the tribute couldn't feasibly carry out, especially when their every move could mean the difference between life and death.
But on the other hand, she never actually bothered to learn about me or Nadina. Instead, she told us what the Capitolites would think of us and how to behave to win over sponsors. What if being on good terms with sponsors is not our biggest concern? Sponsors mainly support the tributes that they think could win. If sympathy sponsors really exist, I don't want them. I would rather earn sponsors by proving my worth in training or in the arena than conform to the Capitolites' stereotypes. Sponsors should be an incidental benefit to a solid strategy, not the primary focus.
Regardless, if I want Baize to help me devise a strategy, I need to make a list.
I relax my hand enough to write "strengths" on the left side of the crease and "weaknesses" on the right side. Under each header, I make a blank, numbered list up to three. It's not my best penmanship, but it's fairly legible.
The first item on my lists are easy. I know that I'm not strong. Compared to the Careers and the older tributes, I may even look borderline frail. I have barely reached puberty — I had a slight growth spurt last summer, but my muscles have yet to develop. But for what I lack in physical strength, I make up in agility.
The second item on each list is the same: I have a small stature. Even with my latest growth spurt, I barely reach five feet in height; I wouldn't be surprised if some of the other tributes are an entire foot taller than me. If the arena is filled with tall grass or other obstacles, they would be able to see far more of what's in front of them than I would. But my small size gives me an advantage in hiding, and I probably make less noise than a two-hundred-pound tribute.
My biggest weakness, though, is my lack of survival skills. There was never a reason to learn how to survive the arena, especially since Eight is a decent-sized district and only two children are reaped each year. I don't know how to climb a tree or look for a source of water or start a fire. But I am a quick learner. I was the first person in my class to understand two-digit multiplication, and it only took me a week to learn some of the more advanced sewing techniques.
They're not comprehensive lists, but they're a starting point.
Although the typical victor is viewed as a strong and mature survivalist, I think my capabilities make up for my limitations. But I do feel like something important is missing from the lists.
In the center of the page, I shakily write, I don't want to die.
I don't know if that counts as a strength or a weakness.
End of Chapter 10.
Current Tribute List:
District 1
Lorcan Estrelle, 15
Veira Faustus, 17
District 2
Xolani Satine, 18
Honoria Brantlie, 16
District 3
Skagen Matisse, 13
Eulalia Psy, 17
District 4
Tycho Searling, 17
Mayuri Odelle, 18
District 5
Zephyrin Greer, 18
Jenikka Amias, 13
District 6
Kaia Palani, 15
Lark Devereaux, 16
District 7
Juniper Anatole, 16
Bryony Linden, 17
District 8
Octavian Espen, 12
Nadina Windlass, 17
District 9
Havan Thorpe, 14
Farah Cybele, 16
District 10
Taneli Masarie, 18
Laelia Lantbruk, 18
Author Note: Thank you for reading this chapter! I apologize for the bit of a delay - I completely changed Octavian's character at the last minute, and it took me a moment to reshape him. I also decided to let these POVs be more introspective as opposed to being driven by action or dialogue. I usually avoid these types of POVs, but I thought it would be good to change it up a bit.
We are down to the last four tributes! In the next chapter, we'll finally be introduced to The Arena Baby who has been mentioned in the prologue and two additional chapters.
Q: What do you think about Nadina and Octavian?
Next Chapter: Fallen Fathers (D11 Train Ride)
